


Memories

by Vexfulfolly



Category: Code Lyoko
Genre: Alternate Ending, Future Fic, Gen, Graduation Fic, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 22:07:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13176204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexfulfolly/pseuds/Vexfulfolly
Summary: A secret santa gift from this year. I've always wondered what their graduation would be like— now you can see it how I do. (This is so pure, but in a nostalgic, painful way)





	Memories

It was unusually warm in the gymnasium that morning. It had to have been because of the unusually large amount of people milling within it, or perhaps it was because of the nerves everyone inevitably felt. Chatter rose and fell in waves, reaching to the rafters only to fall to a near silenced hush, and merely kiss the floor. What was all of this commotion about, you ask? Where have you been this last year? It's graduation day.

 

There were about three hundred people in the room— most of them being families and their extensions, seeing as there was a mere seventy kids in the class. There were, however, friends scattered throughout: people who had already graduated and were awaiting their underclassmen. Us. In the front of the room a makeshift stage had been assembled, which a microphone, several speakers, and a group of disgruntled teachers all sat atop. On the floor in front of it lay seven rows of chairs, each one about ten long. Outward from that was a sea of foldable chairs all occupied by, as previously stated, the masses. Alphabetically arranged, A's in the front with Z's in the back, the graduates were seated, awaiting the speech their lives had lead up to until now. As soon as the conversation in the room died down once more, Delmas began to speak into the microphone. "Good afternoon, everyone," his uneven voice sounded. "Before we hand out diplomas and recognize our students for the feats they've accomplished, our valedictorians will give their speeches. Joining us on stage will be Mister Jeremie Belpois and Miss Aelita Schaefer." And just like that, the room went from near silence to thunderous applause and screams of joy. From a seat on the edge of the front row a blonde beanpole of a boy stood and slowly made his way towards the stage, only to stop short and await his counterpart. As the boy drew the crowd's attention a lithe girl emerged from one of the back rows, her pink hair drawing eyes. The blonde— Jeremie— extended his hand towards the girl and together they scaled the steps towards the podium. Every second seemed all too long, yet they blurred into the next making every moment painful to endure. Before the crowd even knew it the pinkette was already speaking and they could only listen as the calm lilt of her voice filled the room.

 

"Greetings students, teachers, and families beloved: today is a momentous occasion. Today is the day that each and every one of us has fought long and hard for. Today is the day that marks not only beginning of our life that's yet to be, but also the end of everything we've come to know, which to be frank, is quite daunting. I never dreamed that I would ever be here— on this stage, at this school, with all of these people I've come to know and befriend. But none of you really want to hear this sappy stuff, right? It's a bit of a drag isn't it?" This earned a rumble of laughter from students and families alike. Judging by how her speech started, it seemed as if they were about to experience a heartfelt ballad, only to be pleasantly surprised with the genuine personality of the girl before them. "I've always thought these speeches to be pretty useless too. Hear me out! People use them to brag about themselves and why they're up here right now—" Aelita spoke, and as she did so, Jeremie gestured behind her '4.5,' which certainly gained some chuckles— "Or try to get people to cry and tear up, but with the shear value of makeup in this room, it'd be a bit inappropriate. So instead of doing either of those things, I choose to give the responsibility to my fellow valedictorian-slash-boyfriend, Jeremie Belpois, so he can enlighten you instead." It was comical how easily the girl changed subjects and molded the audience between her words. Aelita had them hanging off every syllable on her tongue, which only hyped up Jeremie's speech even more, so when the girl took a step away from the microphone, the blonde was ready to impress. Instead of opening his speech, he decided to get right into his intentions.

 

"When I was in the seventh grade, I thought I could save the world," he said slowly.

_Behind his glasses, pictures of eyes and code danced to binary as candelabra towers ignited in flames of red._

"I thought that the world was going to end. I was so wrapped up in conspiracies and sci-fi movies that I thought the internet was going to go Terminator on us, and try to wipe out humanity. Obviously, that hasn't happened yet and we're all still here, safe and sound. What matters about this is that life moved on. No matter what you think is going to happen, or what limits you think you have— there's a world of possibilities awaiting you. Maybe it's one where you ace all of your classes. Or maybe it's one where you finally get the girl you'd been swooning over for years. Or maybe it's one where all our phones try to eliminate us as a species— hey— who knows? What I'm trying to say is: we can't know the future.

_For only a moment Jeremie could see himself clicking 'delete' on a file labeled Future Flash._

"No matter how many calculations or simulations we try, there's no way to promise an outcome. The only thing we can focus on is the past— and boy, has a lot lead up until now." Jeremie found himself pausing for just a moment to look out into the sea of chairs below him, and even the families. He searched until he saw Ulrich's dark, expectant gaze, until he saw Odd's lopsided grin, Yumi's tentative smile, and William's proud demeanor. "If it wasn't for my friends, I don't think I'd even be standing here right now."

_Cords and cables were wrapping themselves around his neck, tracing each and every vein on his body with their icy-hot touch, searing their paths atop his skin. The world was a hazy green-grey that echoed in his ears and tasted like iron—_

"I'd like to thank your football star for teaching me how to run without tripping or crying. I'd like to think our preforming arts idol for teaching me how to loosen up every once and a while. Even last classes' resident author and Pencak Silat champion for bringing excitement into my life. And lastly, I'd like to thank my girlfriend, for showing me that there's more to life than just school. But this is my silly little story, each and every one of you have your own lives and your own memories. You've got your own motivations and supporters here with you today, so there's no reason for me to gush over mine, when any of you could be doing this right now. Instead, I pose to you a question: Class of 2009, have you made this part of your life worth remembering? If not, the day is young— take your chance when it comes. If so, I welcome you to a new era of your life. Thank you."

_Despite his composed exterior, the boy couldn't help but shed tears as the golden light of the computer before him began to die. He wasn't alone in his actions for Odd was openly weeping, and Ulrich looked misty eyed his way. The darkness in the room slowly began to grow as their old life faded. They stood in silence for a while, enjoying the feeling of darkness without fear before stepping into the elevator one by one, wth the tallest, darkest haired boy being the last to leave._

 Everyone was clapping, others were screaming and hollering, while a select few stood and applauded. The blonde didn't even need to see who they were, for he already knew. From that moment on, the ceremony was a blur. Names flew by and the constant clapping deafened ears to the point where everything was but a dull hum, but there were a few notable people that passed by. An Italian boy with purple hair and an undercut heelied across the stage, received his diploma, chest bumped Jim, the man who handed it to him, and dabbed as he got off stage. His family was so numerous and simultaneously enthusiastic that not one, not two, but three shirts were flung towards to boy. Despite this rather unprofessional display of emotion, Odd wore three chords. A pink one for cinema and theater, a white one for visual arts achievements, and a red one for national recognition for instrumental music. He was the only one in their class to receive that many recognitions. Another rather unforgettable moment was when a tall, bland looking boy crossed the stage. Midway through his trek a fan was thrown from somewhere within the crowd, only for him to raise his hand and pluck it out of the air as if it were nothing, tuck it into a pocket in his robe, and receive his diploma. He wore a single, navy blue chord, which stood to represent his regional superiority in sports. Shaggy brown hair was all that could be seen, but for some reason it seemed like there was more to him than that. The rest of the ceremony went as expected and soon enough, it was over. Caps were tossed into the air, and in a flurry of excitement of glee, six figures stood in a somber calm. It was over. Their fight was finished and together, they won.

 

 

It was long after the ceremony, in fact, it was well into the next day. Somewhere a church bell chimed twice as the moon revealed itself in the sky. Six figures, four tall and two short, stood silhouetted against a backdrop of deteriorated metal. A bridge lay before them; outstretched and eager for visitors. No one dared to take a step towards it until a certain character crouched on its platform. He placed a single plastic stencil on the concrete, brandished a can of paint, and filled it in. When the stencil was removed and both the plastic and the can had been tossed in the river, the group finally got a look at what was left behind.

A single word was painted, and a familiar symbol adorned it. "Lyoko," it read, with the last 'O' of the word being an eye, which would surely watch the property forever. The sound of the river sang across the night only to be interrupted by a strong female voice. "Goodnight, and good riddance, Lyoko," Yumi voiced. "Forever." And with their funeral now completed, everyone walked away with their first real smiles in nearly five years.

**Author's Note:**

> I promise that I'm working on Lage Nom Ai, I've just got so much going on right now. Between moving, midterms, driver's tests, and governor's school applications— I've been more than busy. I should, however be back to my normal posting schedule after Jan 12, so y'all don't have that long to wait. I hope you've all had a lovely holiday season! 
> 
> Ps: Feel free to leave me one-shot ideas/ situations, I'd love to write some drabbles.
> 
> With love, V.


End file.
